A Wookiee Christmas and a Will Ferrell Dream

Forget everything you have ever heard:  Plan 9 From Outer Space is not the worst movie ever made; The Star Wars Holiday Special is.

For the most part, it wasn’t even laughably bad; it was just unspeakably so!  No plot; I’m serious!  Things just randomly happened—random characters appeared and disappeared, musical numbers were performed merely for the sake of taking up time!  Carrie Fisher sang.  Entire scenes of Wookiees conversing in Wookiee (with no subtitles, might I add) were played.  That was the whole movie, basically.  The one brief scene with Darth Vader was stolen right out of A New Hope.  There’s a place in the end when Chewie arbitrarily stares into space and dreams about things that happened in A New Hope—some of which he didn’t even witness.  None of it fit into the timeline at all (which led me to the conclusion that it must have all been taking place in a separate dimension—although, as I pointed out, I didn’t know why I was bothering with the attempt at rationalization when there was no rationality to any of it at all).  The cartoon made more sense than anything else, even though we couldn’t see why that was placed in there, either…and right in the middle of everything.  There was something like soft porn, and there was a Bizarro Rocky Horror Martha Stewart.  I didn’t understand!  I still don’t, and I promise you—I never will.

On with the Will Ferrell dream.

I was bored one night, and nobody could hang out, so for some reason I decided to drive to St. Augustine…alone…down A1A (a drive that I do love, but it’s already creepy when you’re with somebody—imagine being completely alone at about 8:30 when it’s dark).

I arrive, park, and go walking down St. George Street.  I’m just walking along, and everything is closed, and…nobody is there at all, except me.  And I’m walking…and then I pass this little arcade thing, where there is a light on, and somebody is inside, hyperactively running around to various machines.  It’s Will Ferrell. I stop, look at him strangely, and continue on my way.

About two hours later, when I’m coming back in the other direction, I see that he is still in there, and now he looks drunk, and is clinging on to an air hockey machine (because that is apparently the only way he can keep himself upright by this point).  And he’s whacking the puck against the walls of the machine, and he just really looks drunk.  I walk in and say, “I would be absolutely delighted to play a game with you.”

He looks thrilled, too, and gives me the…not the puck, but the other thing…um…whatever it’s called.  He then takes out a large white plastic egg and starts trying to hit the puck with that.

I say, “Uh…what’s that?”

He replies, “Harry Potter.”

Of course, this line somehow makes perfect sense to me in my dream, so I just nod and continue playing.  I think the way I interpreted it was that it was supposed to be Norbert’s egg, and it was some sort of children’s toy.

We give up on the game after a while and just walk outside, and he’s clinging onto me for support…and we round a corner, and there’s Kristen, who immediately goes all fangirlish and wants a picture with Will.  I happily oblige, knowing well about her obsession, of course.  And he then clings onto her and slurs, “Great!  I have a girlfriend now!” which thrills Kristen even more.

And then Cortney, Nicole, and Katie all show up, and we’re all standing together looking at Kristen and Will Ferrell and saying, “Awwww, how cute!”  Not really like us at all, but…there you have it.

And that was really it.  I’d better go to bed now.

Another Superhero Dream

I finally had a dream last night; it had been a while!  Maybe it’s because I’ve started updating a bit more frequently, so my subconscious decided, well, she’s willing to talk again–let’s give her something to talk about.  (I ❤ my subconscious.)

First of all, I don’t know where I was; and like certain other of my dreams, I wasn’t really me, I just looked like me.  And my dad looked like my dad, too, but wasn’t him, either.

We were in some large city where superheroes were…not exactly common, but people weren’t all like, “OMGSUPERMANLIVESHERE!”  (Superman was not in my dream; that was just an example.)  Basically, just the way people act in any fictional town where one or more superheroes reside; normal, except for that.

But where there are superheroes, there are also supervillains.

There was one superhero (and I’m not even sure if he was the only one) who had…turned bad.  I don’t know what all of his powers were (which didn’t change when he turned, he just used them differently), but I do know that he was able to see people’s souls.  He could see things about them that they sometimes didn’t know about themselves.  He could tell if there was evil inside them, or whatnot.  I guess he had a whole method worked out of reading and interpreting what he saw.  And he could see people’s souls in other rooms, through walls…basically, it worked like night vision, I think.  I’m not sure what turned him bad (although I could write a story based on this guy…I think I want to now, so I’ll be making up these details I’m unsure about), but he’d been using his powers for evil for a few years.  It was common knowledge that when you saw this guy’s superhero uniform (his identity was, of course, not known)…you could run, but you probably wouldn’t survive.

He ate souls–which, in turn, killed people.  I guess it was kind of like a vampire, in that he had that dark, mysterious sexiness about him while he was killing…or, perhaps more accurately (except sans the sexy part), like a Dementor–he basically sucked people’s souls out of their mouths.  This is not something he did when he was good–it’s just one of the things that changed about him when he became evil.

Now I’m this quiet, innocent little thing…I think perhaps I was a bit younger than I am now, more innocent and naive or something…well, I guess I really must have been, because…well, you’ll see.

So my father, the mad (evil?–undetermined) scientist, worked for the government, coming up with new weapons.

He had just invented this bug-like thing that looked like a bug when it was moving (it looked just like that weird bug I saw at work last night while I was cleaning–some sort of fly/bee combo)…but when it was resting, it folded its wings over itself, was completely still, and looked exactly like an M&M.  All different colors–even pinks!  These M&M bugs ate human flesh.  (This probably has something to do with the fact that I just passed the Knockturn Alley part of CoS yesterday, when Hagrid was looking for Flesh-Eating Slug repellant.)  Not only flesh, but…they basically ate everything…all the way through, until there was merely a bit of shell left over.  And they had just been tested on some guy who had killed his wife…and it was pretty gruesome….  (But it didn’t seem to affect my father at all, as he scooped the bugs into a Ziploc bag–I guess they worked on command?–and sealed it, screaming, “It works; it works!!!”)

It was nighttime, very dark, and I was to help destroy this superhero who had become his own supervillain.  It was known that he hung around this big ex-office building (he’d seen to its undoing, I guess so he’d have a lair) downtown, and my dad and I were driving there.  For some reason, he was sending me off by myself to find this creep, armed with this little bag of M&M bugs.

For my part, I didn’t want to kill him, and I was repulsed by the idea of killing anyone in such a way…but my dad kept reminding me that it was my civic duty.  (I’m not exactly sure what he was doing, but it seems that, in the dream, he really did have something equally important he was doing–maybe we just split up and he had his own bag and it was just whoever found the guy first…I dunno.)

So I started creeping around, and I’m on the outside of this building, where there are lots and lots of windows, and I’m assuming he’s just going to jump out of one, so I’m a bit nervous…but more than fear, all I feel is regret for what I know I have to do.  And I’m walking along…slowly…slowly…trying to reach the edge of the building, where I’m just going to turn the corner and creep along the back wall–alone.

I don’t know what exactly I expect to find–probably him in his costume (which looked oddly like a cross between Spider-Man and Strong Bad…hmm), feeding on some unsuspecting soul.

Well, I reach the edge of the building, and there’s a short hand rail stretching back into the woods, and I figure I’m going to climb over it, when I step forward, and somebody else steps forward from around the corner.

For some reason, it’s Clive Owen.  (The last time I saw him in anything was Closer, but that was about two weeks ago.  Hmmm.)

He looks…well, really hot (it’s Clive Owen, I mean…come on).  But he’s not in the Strong Bad costume–he was wearing a long-sleeved bluish shirt (I think Crayola might call it “cornflower” or “midnight blue”–been a while since I opened a box of those) and jeans and just brown shoes, and he seems…relatively normal, so I just say, a bit calmly, “Oh–hello.”

He just…stares at me for a moment, and finally says slowly, “Who are you?”

I guess I gave him a name.  I’m not really sure.  I just remember him staring, in all his hotness.

Turns out (and I don’t know if he told me this or if I just…knew it) he was the guy I was looking for, just not currently in costume, and he’d been creeping along the other side of the building, because he’d…spotted my soul…creepy…and was following along beside me so he could spring out and…I guess eat me.

But as he was following along, he was staring at my soul and thinking, against his will almost, without even really realizing it…that there was something so absolutely lovely and pure about it (shut up, guys, I already told you it wasn’t really me) that he just knew he wanted to get closer…and the closer he got, the more entranced he became by this complete innocence I must have been radiating.  (Perhaps this comes from my joke to Steve last night, while putting away the basket that held the taco shells, that I always felt like Little Red Riding Hood carrying it.)

Anyway…he just became so entranced by my “innocence” that it completely washed over him and changed him back–but not immediately–he was very cautious at first, not exactly sure what was going on (maybe he didn’t know anything was going on)…and…I’ve got to go to class in a minute, that’s why I’m rushing along here.  I think there may have been a lot more to it but it’s time to go.

Squidwood

Last night, I got a full night’s sleep for the first time in a very long time, and I believe that is probably also the reason why I had my first dream in a long time.  And I am, of course, going to tell you about it, because that is what I do.  (But let me just warn you that, unlike many of my dreams, this one doesn’t make any logical sense at all, and is hardly even in a logical order.)

Cort and I went to L.A. to meet her dad, and to stay for a week or so.

So we’re staying in this huge hotel where, like, rich people stay, and Cort and I had our own suites, and I think her dad had his own floor…anyway, so Cort knocks on my door and says, “Come with me.”

I don’t know where we’re going, and I say as much, but she tells me that this doesn’t matter, and we go knock on her dad’s door, she tells him we’re going to “that place that she was telling him about” and he says, “Okay, you girls have fun,” and we leave.

We walk out of the hotel, and we head to this big hilly area, where it’s all wet and…marshy…and we’re just walking through, and walking through, and it’s all green and pretty actually, just wet because it had just rained…I clearly recall being able to see these beautiful mountain views from the tops of these hills, which were probably about 15 feet high themselves (this really doesn’t sound like L.A., cause I could see everything pretty clearly), and then they’d slope back down and we’d be in a little valley and not be able to see anything…and there were tire tracks that we were following, so apparently people sometimes drove through here, but we were walking.  (I think I saw bike tracks, too.)

Eventually we came up out of a little valley, after about ten minutes of walking, and were in front of another big, ritzy hotel.

Somehow, we are able to walk right inside and to somebody’s door.  We stop.

I say, “Is this what you wanted to show me?  This looks just like our hotel,” and she says, “Mm-hmm…you’ll see.”  And she knocks on the door.

Guy Pearce answers it.  (…?)  I can’t remember what she said, but somehow she convinces him to let us in.

We’re just sitting there; he’s standing by the bathroom door, we’re sitting on the edge of the bed, talking about…what?  I don’t remember.  I remember that, even though I’m not sure I’ve ever even heard his real accent, he was speaking in the Australian accent in the dream.

So then he says, “Well, could you please excuse me for a moment?”

Cort says, “Uh-huh!  Go ahead,” and he gives us a weird look and then heads into the bathroom (he’d had a towel around his neck since the moment he opened the door), and turns on the shower.

We just…sit there for a sec, and then Cort says, “So…isn’t this great?”

I bounced gleefully on the bed.  I squeaked, “How did you manage this!?”

Cort said, “I was just out walking around the other day when you were napping, and I saw this crowd of people, so I followed them, and they led me right to his door.”

None of this was logical in the slightest, but that’s how it goes in dreams.

We both just giggled for a few seconds, and then there was silence as we just sat there waiting….

Then he came out of the bathroom, in new clothes, drying his hair with the towel, gives us that same weird look like he’s trying to figure out who we are, or trying to remember if he knows us for some reason, and says, “Well…I sort of…have to get going…I’ve got a…thing…tonight,” and Cort says, “Okay, that’s fine.”

So then we went to this little café for dinner and ran into Elijah Wood.  He actually came up to our table and started hitting on us.  I mean, really bad pick-up lines and all.

Then he says, “I’d ask you to come back to my place, but I’ve got something to do tonight, so here’s my number.”

We ask what he’s planning to do that night, and it turns out he’s got a Wizard of Oz reunion party thing to go to, where they’re going to watch the movie (which he apparently was the star of when he was two.  …!?)

“Actually,” he says, “you two could come with me as guests.”

We decide this is a very good idea.

Eventually, what happens, after we run through the valley though a few more times, and change into prom dresses that we just happen to have laying around the hotel, and run back through the valley with the prom dresses on, we go to the party.  (Guy Pearce was there, too.)

And then there was chaos.  Not because of us, however.

We saw my boss’s head sticking up out of the ground.  He looked thoroughly pissed.

And then we found out that it wasn’t really the ground; it was a stage, and there was room underneath where he was standing up, and his head was coming through the ground, which had just grown there.  (When I say “ground”, I mean like, grass, dirt, outdoors-y sort of ground.)  So basically, my boss was wearing the ground like a necklace.

And then Elijah Wood steps out of a crowd of people and looks down on my boss’s head, and says, “You’ve made me very angry,” and he…he turns…green…and he starts growing really tall, and his clothes start tearing, and he turns into….

…Well, not the Hulk.  Where’d you get that idea?  I told you this wasn’t logical.

…He turned into one of those green squidlike alien beings from The Simpsons, except really tall.

And he started yelling all this stuff—at my boss (who must have seriously offended him somehow)—about how he had a miserable childhood, and everyone always made fun of him in school, and he had no confidence, and the person that he is today is only really an act, not real, and yada yada yada.

So then he points a tentacle at the ground and, BOOM!—the ground disappears, and it’s just a stage again, and we’re inside, and my boss ducks and I guess is under the stage.

But that’s not all that happened.  At the same time, a whole bunch more people from the crowd all turned into giant green squids.

It turned out that Elijah Wood was the leader of a whole bunch of aliens.

Well, we started yelling stuff up to him, trying to calm him down, and finally…he did…and he turned back into Elijah Wood…and then all the aliens shrunk back into human forms again, too.

Elijah Wood started crying, and we were hugging him and stuff, and apparently the party was over.  Haha.  So we just went and hung out with him.

He was telling us about his childhood, and I was giving him lots of advice and telling him it wasn’t that bad, and look at where he is now, and after a while he started to become really attached to me.

Cortney, who really likes Elijah Wood, saw this and didn’t seem to mind.

I, who have never really been attracted to him, started to like him back.  Weird.

Then the next thing I remember was us running all over our hotel in the middle of the night, and everything was really dark and stuff, and then we ran into Greta Garbo.  …!?

Okay, that’s it for now.  That dream took way longer than I expected.

More Weird Dreams

I had this dream last night that felt like a movie, just for the cast of characters, really.  Not a whole lot happened in it.  But I wanted to describe some of these people before too much time passes (like, another 15 minutes) and I have forgotten them (at the time of writing this, I have just woken up).

It was the early 1950s, and I lived in what appeared to be this small rural area where there were several houses all in a clump, so there were several families right around mine.  We lived on a farm, but the house part was right on this little dirt road, and across this road, sort of diagonal to us, lived Liam Neeson (not really him, just, for some reason, played by him), who had a huge family.  There were so many kids, I could never quite get an accurate count of them, but not for lack of trying.  Liam had a nagging wife, who did in fact love him, but she nagged.  I found her pretty annoying, myself.  To be fair, she didn’t always nag; she was just nagging at this moment.  It was Thanksgiving, you see, and all the families were preparing dinner inside.  My family (who pretty much looked and acted exactly like my real family) was inside making ours, and I’d been helping all day, but just stepped outside for a short rest, and I’m on the front porch, just witnessing all this stuff that’s going on.

Liam Neeson’s kids are all running all over the place, chasing a cat, and then this other thing that looked like…well…how to describe this thing….

It had very long hair.  So long, that when it was sitting still, its hair fell all about it to make it look like a cat.  But when it ran, it looked like some mutant little thing; it still moved like a cat, but then its face looked sort of like a teddy bear, and was cream-colored and not at all cat-like, and the underside of its hair changed into tiger stripes, raccoon stripes, and speckles like a baby deer…it sort of looked like a cross between a meercat and a raccoon, I guess.

Anyway, whatever it was, it was obviously wild, and the real cat was chasing it, and as already stated, the children were chasing the cat.  So I was concerned for the children, and I called out, “Hey, kids!  Back away from that thing; it’s not a cat and it might be dangerous!”

They all stop and look up at me, and this one girl calls over, “If it’s not a cat, then what is it??”

I called back, “I’m not sure; but I know that it’s not a cat!  Just keep your distance!”

I hadn’t noticed that the people whose house was next-door to Liam Neeson’s, right next to ours, had come outside.  This pretty crabby-looking couple, he with a beard sort of like the cat’s hair, long and stringy and black, and she just short but overgrown with a face like one of those tubby fat cats.  And behind them, their son….

Now, their son was a good-looking guy.  It’s that guy Jordan who comes through my line every once in a while and whom I know likes me.  In my dream, he liked me, too—it was something I’d apparently known for a while.  I think I liked him back in my dream, but I was either playing hard to get, or I was just trying to go about things the proper way and never acknowledged that I even realized he liked me.  I don’t know; something like that.  He was behind his parents, waving and making gestures that seemed to be apologizing for what they did next.

His dad yelled, “Why are you saying our cat’s not a cat?  Just because it’s a little different-looking….  Why don’t you mind your own business; leave us and our cat alone!”

And then they went back into the house, she turning to give me one more angry glare, and slammed the door behind them.

I looked up at Jordan, who had sort of flinched at the banging of the door, and he called over, “Sorry!”  And then I heard the woman’s voice from inside, “JORDAN!  You’ve got work to do!”  He waved and dashed inside.

The kids had chased the cats back toward their house, where Liam Neeson was, at this point, on his front porch, being nagged by his wife about something, so he got up to help her out inside.  The kids were all just dancing around, running in and out, and I heard him say, “Go outside!”

I just sort of laughed and went back into my house. I came back out again to do…something…and found Liam Neeson and Jordan on Jordan’s slowly-darkening front porch, just quietly talking, Jordan sipping some sort of drink, Liam smoking a pipe…so I headed over there to ask what they were up to, and Liam said, looking up because he’d just been staring off into space, “Just enjoying the evening, dear, how are you?”

I said I was doing okay, that we were just about to eat, and I was just getting a breath of fresh air, myself.  Jordan just sort of…smiled.  So I smiled back and said, “How are you tonight, Jordan?”

He said, “Oh, fine, thanks,” and smiled more.

Then my mom came out on our porch and called, “Ginny!  Come on back; it’s all ready!”

I looked at the two of them and said, “Gotta go.”

Jordan said, “Okay, enjoy your meal!” perhaps a bit too enthusiastically, and Liam, after taking a puff on the pipe, said, “Yes, happy Thanksgiving to you and your family.”

I said, “Same to both of you,” and went inside, where everyone was there, sitting around the table, and we said grace, and then my mom, dishing potatoes out, said, “You know, I think that Jordan boy across the street may have a certain interest in you.”

I think I blushed and said, “I know, Mom.”

My dad said, “Jordan?  He’s a nice kid.  Odd parents, though.”

And that was pretty much it.  There were a few more houses around…one or two more down past Jordan’s house, and then another one on the other side of ours, across from Liam Neeson’s…but those people never came outside, so I know nothing about them.

I had another dream where I was going to be killed by this giant robed and hooded evil thing of darkness, like a Nazgul or something….

I don’t know whose house I was in; it was supposed to be ours, but looked nothing like ours (I was on the second story, and we don’t have one of those), and this thing had reached out its hand to me and a very low, loud voice came out of it:  “There is no escape”, it said; and it was just coming for me, and I remember it being more frightening than anything I had ever seen….

Well, whatever it was, wherever I was, Milo was with me, and the thing was going to get both of us, even though, whatever it was that was going on, I knew it was my fault, that I had called it there, straight out of Hell or wherever it had come from, and I stood up in front of him and yelled at the thing, “NO!  Leave him alone; it’s me you want!  He hasn’t done anything; let him go!”

Milo refused to leave, but I told him he must go away, that I must truly fear for my life, but that with him there, I only feared for his, and that if he did not go away, he risked not only his life, but also my soul.  I assured him that his leaving was my only hope of surviving the night.  So he left.

And so I feared.  This thing looked at me (I guess; not like I could really see a face) and said, “I will kill you before the night is through. T here is no escape.  You will not survive.”

Nothing had ever creeped me out so much just by its presence.  Nothing.  That’s how scary this thing was.

And then dawn came, and I remember seeing the light through the window and looking at the thing and thinking, “I’m still alive!” and it disappeared.

So I got up and ran outside, and Milo was right at the front door waiting for me.M

A Work Tale

Tonight at work, Tinny and I were serving like usual, and this hot guy who I ’d never seen before came through the line.  When he got to me, I was dishing something onto his plate, when he said, “Jones?”

Remember that time a hot guy coming through the line asked if I was Lesley Jones’s daughter, and he ended up being somebody who works with her?  Yeah.  I remembered that immediately, but when this guy said, “Jones?” like that, I looked up at him sharply, wondering how in the hell this guy could possibly know my last name.  Did there just happen to be two hot guys coming through my line who work with my mom?

I said, “Yeah…how did you know that?”

His response, which was difficult to hear over the sneezeguards, included the word “sister” in it somewhere.

“What?” I said.

He said, “You’re Ginny, right?” leaning over to take a better look at my nametag.

“Yeah…” I said, still with nary a clue of who he was.

“I live in your neighborhood,” he said.

I must have looked clueless as I pondered this.  I’d noted that he had a slight Hispanic look to him, so I briefly wondered if he was related to that Jaime jerk that Psychobrat used to hang out with.  (This may be an unfair statement; I don’t really know if Jaime was a jerk, or if I only considered him to be such because he hung out with her; he may have stopped hanging out with her because he wasn’t a jerk.  But regardless….)

He said, “The Valley…right?”

I said, “Yeah…?”

He just looked at me, and I said, “I’m sorry; what’s your name?”

He said, “T.J.”

I continued to look at him skeptically as I thought, “I know a T.J, but this isn’t him.”

And then something in his eyes just…flashed at me, and I said, “OHH……..T.J.!

He laughed, and I laughed, too, thinking what an idiot I was, and I said, “I had no idea!  I didn’t even recognize you!  How have you been?  It’s been forever since I saw you last!”

I was completely wrong with all of my ponderings throughout this whole thing.  T.J. is in no way a jerk, nor has he ever been.  Their family has always been nice; and I have known them longer than any other people in Jacksonville, as we met them the day we moved in.  But since we’re no longer on the same street, I don’t see them as much…so I think it actually has been a couple years since I’d seen him.  He just looks…older.  And still hot as ever.

I actually haven’t had very detailed dreams lately; at least, not much that I can remember.  I was telling Milo that all my dreams this week had been of me or one of our friends going to a different country, and I said, “Wonder who’s going to go out of the country tonight,” and he laughed and said, “It’s going to be somebody different every night, and then watch, I’ll end up in some stupid place like Quebec.  You’ll see me standing there in front of a road sign that reads ‘Quebec,’ and I’ll be shouting up into the sky, ‘QUEBEC!?  YOU COULDN’T DREAM UP A BETTER PLACE THAN QUEBEC!?”  Tehehehe.

I’ve decided to skip all classes tomorrow, just because I haven’t missed any this semester, and to, first of all, sleep in, and then do homework and possibly go to the doctor.  So if you’re reading this in Journalism, then yes, know that I premeditated this!  I knew before class that I was not going to be there!  MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!

…Um…don’t let our professor see this, please….

The Opera And Other Matters

I had my first 8 a.m. class this morning, and had asked my mom (who leaves the house at 6:30) to wake me up before she left, because I knew I couldn’t wake myself up.  I set two timers anyhow, one for 6:30 and one for 6:45.

Apparently, my mom forgot to wake me up, because at about 6:37, when she was already gone, I was woken up a completely different way.

I heard, loud and clear, Milo’s voice say, “Ashley!” in an urgent tone, like, “You overslept!”, which is what I thought he was going to tell me.  I sat straight up, panicked because I knew I had overslept for my very first class, and excited by the fact that Milo had come in to wake me up.

But then, looking around in the darkness, I realized there was nobody there–except, of course, for Han Solo, who was standing watch by my bed.  I assumed Milo had shut the door and walked out, so I called, “Milo?”, wondering what it was he had wanted, if it wasn’t to wake me up—why hadn’t he waited?  There was no answer.  So then I glanced around again, wondering, in those early-morning moments where you’re not exactly cohesive, whether he was hiding behind something, or perhaps under the bed—but hearing no sound, I then looked hard at Han Solo…but the voice hadn’t been his, it had clearly been Milo’s.  Eventually I awoke completely and realized what was going on.  I hadn’t even been dreaming, either—at least, not that I can recall—I have no memory of a dream last night or this morning at all.

I ended up being only five minutes late to class, but that was so not my fault!  I’ve never been on 295 that early in the mornings.  I didn’t know traffic slowed down so much it actually stopped—several times!  The trip that normally takes me 15 minutes took 35!  Knowing this now, I will have to start getting up and leaving my house even earlier on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Fortunately, it’s for a good cause. I do believe that I shall really enjoy Journalism.  My teacher definitely comes off as more of a Lupin than a Lockhart.  And Monica is in there with me!

American History and Women’s Studies I think I shall definitely enjoy, too.  My teacher is fantastic—she’s got just the sweetest disposition, and the classes seem really interesting, too.

In other news, Katie and I are going to the opera on Friday, and because we are huge dorks, we have decided to go dressed in formal wear—like, prom dresses—as they did in olden days.

I’m really enjoying Les Miserables—the book, I mean.  (I already love the show.)  I still have quite a long way to go, but I really feel for these characters!  Victor Hugo is flawless in describing what is going through his characters’ heads–but I’ll probably add more on that later.  Got to get ready for work now.

“Top Of The Muffin To Ya!”

In my dream last night I was searching for…something.  I really want to say it was real, whatever it was, but I can’t remember what it was!…some Indiana-Jones-ish thing, an ancient relic of a bygone age, which may or may not have ever actually existed, but for which people have been searching for centuries.  Now here’s the really super-weird part about all this—there were three characters in this particular storyline:  One was me; one was Johnny Depp, and I have really no idea how he crept into my subconscious; and one was a giant muffin which spoke and somehow moved.

So we’re searching for this…whatever-it-was (but I want to say it was a city, I’m just not sure!…), and I went to enlist the help of detective Johnny Depp (why would we hire a detective? and why was it freaking not Harrison Ford who was in this dream?) to find it.  So then it’s the three of us looking for this old…thing.  Haha.  Right, well…some things happen which I can now no longer remember…a lot of searching through old libraries like the one in Venice in Last Crusade….  Anyway, a lot of time passes.  Eventually, we discover that this whatever-it-is is older than anyone has ever assumed…a whole lot older.  Like, before the Mayans older.  (The Mayans had never before figured into any accounts of this thing that we were searching for, so it was of huge importance that the thing dated before them.)  The secret of the thing’s final resting place, or the location of the ancient city, or whatever it was (I tend to think it was more along the lines of a city) lay at the top of this ancient Mayan pyramid.  So we arrive at the base of this pyramid, all standing in awe, staring way up there at the top of this thing (the muffin didn’t have a face—it just looked like a muffin—but it was staring, too)…just awestruck at the idea that we were about to discover something that so many people had been searching for for so long….  And then we discover that the pyramid has no stairs.  How were we going to get up to the top!?

We’re staring at it, and it is Johnny Depp who at last points out that there are indentations at random places, which we could probably put our hands into to climb up (all being master rock-climbers, and all) all the way to the top.  He and I are immediately confident and start preparing to climb this thing…but the muffin sort of shrinks back, looking scared.  (Picture that in your mind; just picture it.)  We both look at it and immediately start trying to reassure it that it can climb the wall.  (What were we, blind or something?  Did we even realize we were talking to a freaking muffin?)  Finally, after much (and I mean a lot of) coaxing, the muffin agrees to attempt to climb this pyramid with us.

After an awful lot of climbing, we are almost to the top, when Johnny Depp discovers this little lever thing.  He pulls on it—hard—and gradually stairs rise up beneath us.  We’re no longer clinging onto the side there for dear life…we can actually walk up.  But the stairs start coming from the top and are coming down slowly…I see him pull this lever thing, because I’m right below him, but the muffin is way back there, so Depp yells, “LOOK OUT DOWN THERE!”  We hear a brief, muffled cry of alarm from the muffin, and after the rumbling of the stairs moving into place ceases, the muffin yells up, infuriated, “THERE WERE STAIRS ON THIS THING!?”  Depp yells back, “SORRY!”

We walk the rest of the way to the top, and are looking around, and we find whatever it is we need, but then the muffin’s afraid to go back down, because those stairs are really narrow.  So it stays behind, and we go back down, promising to come back for it later.

While the muffin is waiting up there by itself, two gigantic hands appear out of nowhere, lift it up to a giant mouth, and eat the top off of it, and then place it back down on the ground.  A little while later, some strange people walk up the stairs to the top of the pyramid to ask the muffin what it’s doing up there.

The muffin tries to explain that we were looking for this old thing, and the people are like, “Oh, right, like anyone could find that.  No one has ever been able to find it.  And what are you doing looking for it in Mexico?”

The muffin says that the three of us had finally made the discovery that the Mayans knew about the thing after all, and the people look at each other skeptically, and the muffin says, “It’s true!”  It then goes on to complain that we made it climb up this huge wall, and it’s a muffin, and how is a muffin supposed to climb a wall!?, and the people look at each other skeptically once again, and say, “Why were we able to walk up stairs?”

The muffin explains how the stairs just appeared, and you can tell these people don’t believe it, and they say, “Okay, come on,” and start trying to lift it up.  The muffin says, “What are you doing!?” and they say, “You’re obviously insane, so we’re taking you to the mental institution.”  The muffin protests, “I’m telling the truth!  Just wait, they’re coming back, you’ll see I’m telling the truth!”

They reply, “All we see is a disfigured muffin sitting at the top of an ancient pyramid, telling insane stories.”

The muffin is indignant.  “I am not disfigured!  I just have a bite out of me!  Look, I’ll prove it!” and begins trying to take off its muffin cup thing, and it was really realistic the way the paper peeled off of the muffin, and steam came off it and everything…god, this sounds dirty somehow.  The muffin taking off its wrapper?  I shudder to think what Freud would say about this one.

The muffin was taken to the mental institution, and we came for it, and I’m not sure what happened at that point.  What a confusing night.